Solitude

And you should not let yourself be confused in your solitude by the fact that there is something in you that wants to move out of it. This very wish, if you use it calmly and prudently and like a tool, will help you spread out your solitude over a great distance. Most people have (with the help of conventions) turned their solutions toward what is easy and toward the easiest side of the easy; but it is clear that we must trust in what is difficult; everything alive trusts in it, everything in Nature grows and defends itself any way it can and is spontaneously itself, tries to be itself at all costs and against all opposition. We know little, but that we must trust in what is difficult is a certainty that will never abandon us; it is good to be solitary, for solitude is difficult; that something is difficult must be one more reason for us to do it. ~ Rilke (Stephen Mitchell Translation)

I took the opportunity to spend the better part of this weekend in solitude. My beloved Grace was away for martial arts camp, and I had much that I wanted to experience and accomplish, most of which benefitted from, if not required, solitude.

As Sunday evening draws near, I am reminded of the simple power that lies in the forest and in solitude, and what a rare and beautiful gift it us if we meet each with intention.

On Saturday, I spent several hours in a local park. A short drive from our flat, we are fortunate to be able to be completely surrounded by the green and the living within only a few brief minutes. Gently hiking off the beaten trails, up into the hills where few humans tread, I pushed myself beyond what seemed comfortable and convenient. I quickly become covered in spiderwebs and leaves, occasionally giving rides to forest insects. There was a time when this type of play was completely normal for me, but I really had to work to relax my preferences for clean clothes and no bugs crawling up my legs. Trusting in the difficult, I knew that moving through my discomfort would reward me with something unique.

About 10 minutes up the hill, I found a nice spot that was relatively free of plants and set myself down. There I remained for nearly two hours. Listening to the trees, the wind, the crows calling, songbirds playing, streams weaving down the hills, the occasional car passing on a road just beyond the forest. I sat there as the sun moved between the trees, resisting the urge to ‘do something’ while I was there. I simply sat in solitude.

It was a beautiful experience, and yet I recognized the challenge it presented right away. Indeed, the go-ego-go part of myself was quite anxious for something to do, someone to talk to, or something to think about. Each of these states I welcomed and allowed to move through me, as I simply returned my gaze outward, my attention wide, and my focus soft. The forest rewarded me with her simple gifts, each one filling me with a love and energy that can only come from being near to the Earth.

After living in the city for so many years, I often forget how comfortable I can feel in the wild, and how rejuvenating it can be to simply ‘be’ in nature, without goals, or expectations. As I began to be called onward in the day, I felt a great sense of humor wash over me, as though I was let in (again) on some great secret. The secret gift of the forest…Her offering is of solitude, of nature, of things green, of dirt, spiders, mildew, and wind. Each and every a gift of rejuvenation with only the simple cost of time.

It is a secret that I am certain She wants each of us to know.